


Dolce

by missmichellebelle



Series: Through the Kaleidoscope [8]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pianist, Awkward Romance, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Non-Binary Hange Zoë, Past Levi/Erwin Smith, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Self-Reflection, pianist levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is this your weird way of trying to ask me out on a date?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dolce

**Author's Note:**

> ho boy. this part covers a very large stretch of time, and, as a result, is a fucking emotional roller coaster. a LOT of important stuff happens here, and I'm sorry for not spreading it out more, but. but. IT JUST HAD TO BE WRITTEN THIS WAY OKAY I CAN'T EXPLAIN.
> 
> Eren is now high enough level to unlock Levi's ~~tragic~~ backstory.
> 
> I imagined the end of this part shortly after completing the second part of this series. the imagery for it, that is. ah, it brings me such peace. uwu
> 
> I was torn on which piano piece to use for this, but hopefully the one I chose evokes the same emotional response for you guys as it did for me (actually, scratch that. I cried when I finished this. erm.).
> 
> (when in doubt, use musical terminology as titles, yeah!)

“Well then.”

Levi tenses where he’s drying the dishes from the dinner Eren insisted on cooking for the three of them. He’s gone now, bowing out to give Levi and Hanji some alone time to catch-up despite the fact that Levi had told him it was completely unnecessary. But Eren had simply smiled at him, slid his hands from Levi’s wrists to the tips of his fingers, and said goodnight.

His hands still tingle at the thought of it.

Hanji is sipping from a cup of tea at the dining table, eyes watching Levi over the rim like a stalking cat’s, and Levi has been waiting for this moment since they showed up unannounced at his door.

“He’s young,” Hanji concludes, and Levi snorts. Way for them to start with the obvious. “Too young, almost… It doesn’t bother you?”

Levi carefully sets a plate back in his cabinet and sighs.

“It’s…” he pauses, searching for the words among his porcelain bowls. “An adjustment,” he decides, giving a small nod.

“If I recall, I remember a particular young man in his early 20s falling for someone nearly a decade older than him. It didn’t go so well.”

“I recall,” Levi replies tersely, drying the next plate with a bit more vigor.

“And this time is different?” Hanji sounds, surprisingly, skeptical.

“Yes.” Levi grips the edge of the sink, imagining his fingers are digging straight through the granite. “Eren’s not—I’m not—” _It’s different_ , he tells himself. He knows that it is because it _feels_ different, but how the fuck is he supposed to explain that to Hanji? He can’t even explain it to himself.

“Is it?”

Levi should have expected this, but somehow he didn’t see it coming. Not after a night full of Hanji’s cooing and invasive questions. Not from months of Hanji pushing him to meet Eren followed by more of them nurturing the seeds of Levi’s affection.

“I just want you to remember where you were when you were Eren’s age.” Their voice is a little sad, a little solemn, and Levi turns on them.

“Do you think I would do to him what Erwin did to me?” Levi bites, voice venomous, but Hanji doesn’t flinch at the poison.

“Of course not. But it’s not Eren I’m worried about.” Levi snorts—it certainly sounds that way. “It’s you.”

“Me?” What in the world do they have to worry about?

“Yes, _you_. You might be as prickly as a cactus, but you also give too much of yourself, always. You pour yourself into everything. To your music, to cleaning, to me, even, sometimes.” Hanji keeps his gaze. “To Erwin, and I suspect to Eren now, too.”

Levi looks away, _tchs_ in his throat and throws the dish towel he’d been using into its intended hamper.

But he doesn’t deny it.

“Although I can see the difference.” There’s a smile in Hanji’s voice. “That boy _adores_ you.”

Levi’s fingers find the counter again, scrabble against the surface. He’s seen it in Eren’s eyes, but it’s something else to quietly acknowledge the way that Eren looks at him and for someone else to observe it and state it blatantly.

“I just want you to be careful.”

“If he—” _adores me_. Levi can’t make himself say it. “What do I have to be careful about?”

“The same things most people have to be careful about when they’ve made their hearts vulnerable. I’m sure Eren’s own friends have given him a similar talking-to.”

“Unnecessary,” Levi says flippantly, and Hanji grins, tucking their chin into their hand. He glares.

“I must admit,” they add, their voice lilting into more of their natural tone—less serious, less solemn. It eases the tension out of Levi’s shoulders. “I do love seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Levi asks, settling at the table and lifting his now lukewarm tea to his lips.

“Smitten. Twitterpated. Head-over-heels.” They twist their wrist in the air, as if they could go on forever. “It’s a good look for you.”

“Don’t you have a hotel to check into?” Levi asks cooly, wanting the subject as far away from him as Eren as possible. He’s talked enough about the whole situation in the last several hours to last him a lifetime.

“I don’t see why you won’t just let me sleep on your couch,” Hanji whines, flopping gracelessly onto the table.

“Because my sofa is for sitting, not for sleeping.”

Levi conveniently doesn’t mention all the times that Eren has slept on it.

*

Hanji is in town for a full four days, and while they have their fair share of things to get done before they’re off again (this time to somewhere in Canada), they are sure to make plenty of time for Levi. And Eren. In fact, Levi is pretty sure Hanji spends more of their free time with Eren than with him, although that probably has to do with the fact that _no_ , Levi does not want to go to the Central Park Zoo, and _no_ , he’s been to the MoMA once is it really necessary for him to go _again_?

As a result, he sees less of Eren over those few days, surviving on text messages and lengthy phone calls and the occasional late night whispered conversation in Levi’s doorway that is generally dominated by Eren trying to break the record for _longest goodnight kiss of all time_.

Levi is pretty sure he’s broken it.

But, as tradition dictates, he meets Hanji at their hotel on their final night and they drink and he plays something on the piano in the lobby. He stopped wondering long ago if Hanji purposefully picked hotels with pianos somewhere inside of them whenever they came to New York long ago—he knows they do.

The conversation stays light. Hanji talks about their upcoming mural commission and then about taking some time to work for themselves, try to pull a collection together, to host another show. They ask Levi about his next project, and he answers evasively, not yet knowing what’s in store for him and hating the downtime, even if it does mean he can freely spend what exists of Eren’s summer vacation with him.

“You need to take that boy on a date,” Hanji tells him after he finishes playing the ridiculous Kelly Clarkson song they had requested. Levi gives them a strange look.

“We… Do that.” Apparently, _date_ is not a word that comes easily to him, either.

“Oh really?” Hanji asks, settling down next to him on the bench. “Name once.”

“Eren comes over and makes me dinner all the time.” Levi’s face skews up, both in his annoyance and his confusion.

“Let me clarify.” Hanji adjusts their glasses. “Name one time you’ve taken Eren _out_.”

“Out?”

“Yes, as in, you both did something, together, romantically, outside of your apartment. Or his apartment. Or your entire apartment _building_.” They look momentarily exasperated, eyes flitting about as if trying to find anymore loopholes, before nodding decisively.

“He’s come to see me in concert several times,” Levi tells them, decisively, and Hanji coos.

“Oh, you poor dear,” they chirp, petting his hair, and he jerks away from the touch.

“Stop that.”

“Levi, those aren’t _dates_. And, from what Eren told me, that was before you both started seeing each other.”

Levi wants to point out that, based on Hanji’s definition, those definitely _are_ dates, and even if it had been before Levi or Eren had been forthright about their feelings, the feelings had still been there, but—

“What else has Eren told you?”

Hanji smiles, pressing a single finger to their lips as if telling Levi to be quiet.

“Plenty, but mostly that you don’t go on dates.” Hanji pauses. “Well, I asked him, but details.” They wave their hand about in front of their face. “He just sort of laughed, said that wasn’t really something you did.” Hanji glances at him, eyes sharp. “It didn’t seem bother him, though.”

Levi hums contemplatively. Hanji could very well be right, but then again, they could also be wrong. They’d known Eren a few days, what did they know about what bothered him and what didn’t?

Shit. What if it _does_ bother him?

The idea of going out on a date is… Almost _foreign_ to Levi. After all, the last “relationship” he’d been involved in hadn’t exactly allowed for things like being in public together. It hadn’t been something Levi longed for then, or longed for now. What was a date but dinner surrounded by a ton of strangers? Levi much rather have dinner in the privacy of his own home, where he can hesitantly take Eren’s hand across the table and only feel mildly embarrassed over his boldness.

But Eren isn’t Levi—is practically his exact opposite, and Levi knows it. Just because he sees no need in flaunting their relationship around the general public doesn’t mean that Eren doesn’t.

He sighs.

Stupid Hanji.

*

“Does it bother you that we don’t go on dates?” Levi point blank asks Eren when he shows up at Levi’s door the following afternoon. Eren blinks at him, the beaming smile on his face slipping into a look of confusion.

“Um.” He’s holding a plastic bag with tupperware stacked inside it, which would normally pique Levi’s interest if it wasn’t so invested elsewhere. “Hello to you, too?” Eren eases past Levi, who steps aside automatically. “I brought lunch?” Eren’s voice keeps lilting up into a question, like he’s not sure if he should be there at all.

“If it bothers you, you should tell me,” Levi insists, crowding his space in the hallway, unrelenting. _I’m not good at this_ , he doesn’t say, staring Eren down like maybe he’ll read it in his eyes instead. _If you don’t tell me something, I’m not going to figure it out. I’m not a fucking mind reader_.

Expression dawns on Eren’s face and he sighs, slipping out of where Levi’s arms had trapped him against the wall much more easily than he should be able to. Then again, Levi isn’t exactly putting up a fight.

“You talked to Hanji, didn’t you?” His face looks tired, and then he continues into the kitchen with a familiarity to his gait.

 _That_ , Levi wants to say and point his finger at. That right there is the reason he doesn’t want to go out, because he _likes_ having Eren in his apartment. He likes how right it feels. How the fuck is he supposed to feel that in some low-lit restaurant?

“Answer the question.” Levi leans against the counter and crosses his arms, and Eren runs a hand through his hair, looking exasperated.

“Honestly?” Eren still has strands of his hair peeking through his fingers as he turns his eyes on Levi. “I don’t really think about it.”

Levi blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

“What does that even mean?” It comes out as more of a growl than Levi intended, but he can’t help it—he’s frustrated. It’s a yes or no question. Why does Eren have to make it more complicated than that?

“It means…” All of the air rushes out of Eren with a shrug. “Before Hanji mentioned it, it wasn’t something I thought about.”

“But you think about it now?” Levi presses, fingers tightening where they’re still gripping his own arms, and Eren stares at Levi for a very long, silent moment before he laughs. “What?” Levi snaps, the laughter grating on his already frayed nerves. He’s been thinking about what Hanji said for over 12 hours, and now Eren won’t just fucking _answer_ him, and now he’s _laughing_.

“You…” Eren smiles at him, closing the distance between them in a few steps and sliding his hand around Levi’s cheeks. “Are fucking adorable.”

Levi glares at him, averting his eyes and growling out an, “ _Eren_ ,” that is supposed to sound a lot more annoyed than it does, and Eren smiles as he kisses him. It’s a gentle press of lips on lips, and Levi doesn’t know what Eren has done to him that, when they pull apart, Levi finds himself not wanting it to end.

“Is this your weird way of trying to ask me out on a date?” Eren asks teasingly, rubbing his nose against Levi’s in a way that is really fucking annoying but also hopelessly adorable.

Very much like Eren himself.

“Do you _want_ to go out on a date?” Levi counters, and Eren huffs out a laugh.

“I don’t _care_.” Eren’s eyes are too big and too green and if Levi didn’t have an uncanny sense of direction, he might poetically say he could get lost in them. Instead, he is simply overwhelmed by them and the earnestness and exasperation and (if he let’s himself think about it) adoration that resides there. He has to look away again. “If all you want to do is sit in your living room and play piano while I curl around you, I—I’m good with that.”

“You hesitated.”

“You are so ridiculous.” Eren sighs, resting his forehead against Levi’s, eyes finally closed. “It’s not like I wouldn’t enjoy going out to dinner with you, or having a picnic at a park, or going to see a movie, or—anything else, I would. But it’s not like I’m upset because we _don’t_.”

Levi scrunches his nose. Dinner is one thing, but a picnic in a _park?_ Does Eren even understand the state of most New York City parks and how very unfit they are for consuming food in? And a _movie theater?_ Levi’d rather chew off his own arm than wander into one of those cesspools, and—

And Levi imagines Eren sitting in his apartment for the rest of their lives, and instead of that warm, pleasant feeling he usually feels at the thought of Eren in his space, it makes him feel hollow. Because Eren is… A lot of things, really, but mostly he’s _bright_ , and it’s a stupid-ass way to describe a person but Levi doesn’t have any other words for it. Effervescent, maybe? It still doesn’t seem quite right…

Either way, how could Levi ever bottle something like that up? Keep it behind drawn curtains and locked doors? Eren… Doesn’t deserve that.

Doesn’t deserve the life Levi can currently give him.

“Go out with me,” Levi finds himself mumbling, fingers curling in the folds of Eren’s shirt, and Eren giggles.

“What are we, 15? I thought we were already going out.”

Levi breathes a long sigh through his nose.

“No, go out with me. To dinner.” Levi drops his eyes to the ground, feeling suddenly embarrassed. God, no one ever told him that asking people out to things was so fucking nerve-wrecking. “Or. Or something.”

“Or something,” Eren echoes, and then tips Levi’s chin up until their eyes meet. “We don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Levi replies, evenly. And he doesn’t want to. He _really_ doesn’t want to. The idea of sitting in a space like that, closed in by strangers, makes his chest feel tight. Levi only doesn’t mind crowds when he’s raised above them, his music consuming him and providing a veil between him and the masses.

But Eren doesn’t deserve someone who spends their lives as a hermit, and… And Levi wants to be someone Eren deserves. Even if he finds that possibility hard to believe in.

“Okay.” Eren’s fingers find his, and they rest there, a comforting warmth. “Are you going to buy me flowers and everything?” He teases, smirk sharp, and Levi groans.

“Don’t push it, brat.” Levi nudges him away with his shoulder, stalking the few feet to where the food had been left on the counter, and Eren laughs, looping arms around his waist and following after, chest sealed to Levi’s back. It makes it ridiculously difficult to walk, and Levi says as much, but he doesn’t push Eren off, either.

*

It turns out that finding a decent restaurant in New York City is harder than Levi thought. At least, decent as far as Levi’s standards go, and his standards are a lot higher than whoever-the-fuck assigns star ratings to these places. Four dollar signs on Yelp and servings the size of Levi’s pinky finger don’t exactly mean _high class_ to him, and they especially don’t warrant something as important as a first date.

Because _holy shit_ , this is their first date, and Levi is absolutely overthinking it.

It takes asking Hanji for recommendations for him to make any headway, and even that is like climbing a fucking mountain. His initial, one sentence email is responded to with a mass of text that he has to weed through to eventually find any restaurant names, and he finds he’s not all that surprised by the few suggestions Hanji gives him. When he looks into them, they are exactly the sort of restaurants Levi trusts eating at—leave it to Hanji to know precisely what it is Levi was looking for.

He makes a reservation at a Japanese place for a Thursday night (to avoid the couples that go out on dates on Fridays and Saturdays, of course), and then feels rather proud of himself for accomplishing as much. Before remembering that he still has to _actually_ ask Eren.

Shit. What if he hates Japanese food? Or has plans already? Or changed his mind about the whole date thing?

It honestly astounds him, how fucking bad he is at this whole _dating_ thing.

*

He finds it harder to be blunt, this time around. Why did he have to take so long to find a restaurant? It’s been _weeks_ since that first conversation, and Eren’s probably forgotten about it. Or thought that Levi changed his mind. Either way, he never brought it up, and Levi never brought it up, and it’s so much easier to revisit a topic the next day and not _sixteen later_.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks, frowning at Levi over the arm of the couch. Levi’s brow pinches as his fingers continue to fly across the keys, and he flicks his eyes up only briefly.

“Fine,” he says, voice clipped and absolutely not fine.

“You sure?” Eren pushes.

Levi slams his hands on the keys in annoyance, throwing a glare in Eren’s direction. He’s going to regret that little tantrum later, and not only because it means he’ll have to get the tuner back in here sooner rather than later.

“I said I was fine. I’m fine,” Levi grits out through his teeth, and it’s the least convincing performance he’s ever given. Eren blinks at him, eyes a little wide at the display, before they narrow and soften and Levi moodily looks away.

“Okay, well. You just played Flight of the Bumblebees three times in a row, so sorry if I’m a _little_ skeptical.” His voice grows steadily louder, and Levi knows Eren is standing beside him before the touch comes to his shoulder. “Is it the album?” Eren asks, voice careful, and Levi can’t help but settle under the touch a bit.

“No,” he sighs out, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He’s being ridiculous, and he knows it. It’s not his fault he turns into an asshole every time he gets nervous—he fucking _hates_ being nervous. It’s just sort of a side effect of that.

Eren’s hand presses into the space between his shoulder blades, knowing full well that Levi tends to carry all his stress and tension there, and Levi leans his head back until it’s resting against Eren’s stomach, ignoring how much it makes him feel like a cat. When he opens his eyes, Eren is looking down at him, somehow still smiling even after Levi snapped at him.

“Come on,” Eren coaxes carefully, rubbing a circle at the base of Levi’s neck. “I-I’m your boyfriend. You can talk to me.”

Levi regards Eren with a blank face. Boyfriend. Eren’s used the word once or twice before, and always with uncertainty in his voice, like he isn’t quite sure if it’s okay to use it even though Levi has never refuted it. Boyfriend. It’s not a conversation they’ve had. One day they weren’t, and the next day they were, but what they were, Levi doesn’t know. Boyfriend. It seems like such a juvenile word to him, but there aren’t really any better terms for it.

He rests his cold hand—his hands always get cold when he plays—over where Eren’s still rests on his shoulder, and gazes levelly up at Eren. It’s starting to make him feel a little dizzy.

“Go out to dinner with me on Thursday.” It comes out less like a question and more like a demand, which was not at all Levi’s intention, but he just keeps his gaze on Eren and waits. Watches as Eren’s face goes from surprise to understanding to amused. Is glad he’s watching, too, when Eren’s cheeks warm up and change colors like a mood ring.

“So that was it, huh?” Eren grins. “Of course, you big dummy.” Levi frowns at him, and Eren chuckles. “Little dummy?”

“Invitation retracted.” Levi lifts his head and tries to shake Eren’s touch. “Also—fuck off.”

“Too late, I already accepted,” Eren sing-songs, and the bird that has taken up residence inside of Levi’s body around the same time as Eren showed up in his life flutters around annoyingly. “Come on, now that you’ve got that off your chest, you have come composing to do.” Eren gives Levi’s back a nudge, and Levi scowls at his piano.

He _hates_ composing.

(Then again, he hates a lot of things).

“Brat,” he spits.

“Idiot,” Eren counters around a laugh, and Levi can feel his touch retreating. Can feel Eren about to give him his space so he can concentrate, and for some reason, Eren is content to sit there and watch him do it.

Levi’s hand snakes up and grabs Eren’s before it can fully disappear, and Eren makes an inquisitive noise from the back of his throat. Levi bites his lip and stares at the familiar, soothing white of the ivories.

“We are, you know,” he says, quietly.

“Are what?” Eren asks, voice twisted in confusion. A beat. Another. Eren’s little laugh of understanding. “Boyfriends?” There’s less uncertainty in it that time. Surprise, maybe, that Levi is bringing it up at all. Or maybe that’s appreciation.

Levi doesn’t say anything. Hums softly in affirmation, and adds _boyfriend_ to the list of words his mouth refuses to comfortably form.

Eren is suddenly there again, pressing a kiss to Levi’s temple with a soft and fond, “I know.”

(Levi hates a lot of things. Eren is not one of them).

*

As it turns out, Eren does not, in fact, hate Japanese food.

(Thank god).

But he does start acting… Strange. Strange as far as Eren is concerned, that is. He becomes more fidgety in the days leading up to their date. He’s less talkative, and at Levi’s few (rather pitiful, if he’s being honest with himself) attempts at asking if something is bothering him, Eren had just smiled and denied it.

But the smile and the laughter he used to cover the strange tone of his voice felt too hollow to Levi. Like there was something missing that left both of them feeling unsettled in the aftermath.

He wonders if Eren is somehow nervous for their dinner date? It doesn’t make sense, in the scope of everything he knows about Eren, but Eren’s behavior in _general_ isn’t making much sense and it’s the only plausible explanation that Levi can come up with.

And maybe, he draws comfort from the idea, considering how nervous he himself is getting. Although those nerves have nothing to do with Eren, and everything to do with going to a restaurant he’s never been to before. Or, you know, _been on a fucking date before_.

It’s a foreign affair starting the second he knocks on Eren’s door, dressed probably a little too nicely if what Eren is wearing is his base for comparison, but there are no flowers in sight at the very least. Levi’s nerves feel like they’re showing on his skin, even though he knows there not, but that’s okay, because Eren seems content to show enough anxiety for the both of them.

Not knowing what else to do, Levi offers his arm and asks, “Shall we?” and he’s pretty sure it was the _wrong_ thing to do, given the fact that Eren bursts out laughing, but at least it seems to shatter some of the unease already settled over the evening.

They take a cab after a considerable amount of discussion, considering their reservation is at seven sharp and they still have to traverse most of Manhattan. Mainly because Eren insists the subway will be faster, and Levi’s face twists up in fear and horror at the thought of it, and he has to hide it completely when Eren offers his lap for Eren to sit on.

Without really meaning to, Levi starts counting the second they’re in the cab. Not minutes, but _people_. _One_ , he thinks, looking at the cabbie as Eren easily tells him where they’re going.

 _Nine_ , he thinks, as he tells the host at the front table that they’ve arrived. _Forty-eight_ , he counts as they’re led to their table and his eyes sweep the entire restaurant.

 _Fifty_ is the number he reaches after one waiter takes their drink order but another labels herself as their waitress for the evening. Levi hasn’t even looked at the menu yet.

“Can we have a few minutes?” Eren asks, and he shoots Levi a worried glance. Levi figures it’s not the first one of the evening, even if it is the first one he’s noticed.

“Of course. If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them.” Their waitress’s speech is stilted by her accent, but clear, and she excuses herself from the table with a nod of her head. Levi watches her go with an empty expression on his face that jerks into startled when Eren’s fingers touch his wrist.

He pulls away on instinct.

Several things flicker over Eren’s features. _Hurt_ is the only one Levi really pays any attention to.

“Do you want to go home?” Eren asks, voice strained, and Levi purses his lips and shakes his head.

“Do you?” Levi resists the petulant urge to cross his arms, and instead flips open his menu with a bit too much force. It _thwacks_ against the table, and Eren winces.

“If you’re going to keep acting like this, _yes_.” Eren’s eyebrow dips, and his eyes turn angry, and Levi glares back at him through waiter number one bringing them glasses of water silently. “Look, if you wanted to have dinner together, I could have made dinner, you didn’t have to—”

“Yes,” Levi starts, a little too loudly, a little too forcefully. “I did.”

A tense silence sits between them, and Levi stares at the restaurant, at the dozens of faces he doesn’t (and will probably never) know. Of all the strangers that have now seen him with Eren.

Fifty.

He’d counted.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Levi blurts, his fingers so tight on the menu he’s sure he’ll pop holes through the dense paper. “This is my first date,” he confesses, a little too loudly.

“Levi, just because we’re at a restaurant doesn’t make this our first date, we’ve had plenty of—”

“I don’t just mean with you.” Levi doesn’t look at Eren. Can’t look at Eren. How the fuck is he supposed to explain that this is the first real relationship that Levi’s ever actually had?

“But…” Eren sounds confused. “You and Erwin…?”

They’ve never talked about it, but it doesn’t surprise Levi that Eren’s figured it out. He’s a perceptive little bastard, when he wants to be. The thought that Eren is perceptive about _Levi_ is far too pleasant a thought for his current state of mind, so he pushes it aside for later.

“Erwin Smith has one of the most recognizable names in New York City. He comes from a powerful, wealthy family, and has built the empire tremendously. His name’s in the paper at least once a week.” Levi keeps his eyes trained on the restaurant, dancing from table to table. Other couples, families, groups of friends. He doesn’t realize he’s looking for the familiar, comforting sight of a baby grand until he remembers he’s in a Japanese restaurant and he won’t find one.

“Can you imagine the sorts of headlines if a man of such stature was seen at a candlelit restaurant with an up-and-coming pianist who owed his renown to that man? Never mind that the pianist was eight years his junior…” Levi’s eyes finally make their way back to Eren, who looks… Sad.

So incredibly sad, it makes Levi’s own heart ache.

“Levi…” Eren whispers, and this time he full on takes Levi’s hand. The urge to jerk away is incredibly strong, and maybe Eren senses it, somehow, because his grip just tightens. Eren’s mouth twists into a sad smile. “I should have been the one to take you on this date.”

He scoffs.

“It doesn’t make a difference, brat.” Levi looks down at their hands, as if Eren’s fingers intertwined with his is some sort of novelty. Like Eren doesn’t find some excuse to take his hand as often as he can when it’s just them. He doesn’t understand why the gestures seems so much bigger when there are approximately 100 eyes to witness it. “I don’t know what I’m doing either way.”

Eren’s hand squeezes his.

“Does anyone?”

Levi’s eyes raise to meet Eren’s, and they’re soft in a way that makes Levi feel overwhelmed in a way he definitely doesn’t like. That welling feeling in his throat, the throbbing in his chest. It’s all incredibly uncomfortable.

“I’ve never…” Levi looks down again. It’s easier to focus on their hands than Eren’s eyes when he admits things to him. Like it softens the blow, not being able to see immediately what Eren thinks of him when he says something. “You’re my first…”

He’s waiting, he realizes. He’s waiting for Eren to finish the sentence for him, so he doesn’t have to say it.

But Eren doesn’t, and when Levi looks up again, his eyes a little wider, a little more openly afraid than usual, Eren is just looking at him, eyes still soft.

Still patient.

Still understanding.

Levi’s lips hardly move to form the word.

“Boyfriend.”

Eren’s eyes finally fall as he smiles, his eyelashes spread across his cheeks, and Levi has to swallow down all the gunk gathering in his throat before he does or says something really stupid.

Beautiful is not a word Levi uses often, if at all.

It’s a word he might, one day, use to describe Eren in this moment.

Their waitress returns, setting down two cups of tea that Levi absolutely did not order, and he glances at Eren in surprise.

“Are you ready?” She asks, patient and pleasant, and Eren catches his eyes with a smile.

“I think so.”

Levi has never been in love. Infatuation, sure, to the point where he even confused it with love until it had passed and the bitter taste in his mouth wasn’t the right flavor of heartbreak. But as Levi watches Eren order (for the both of them, and normally Levi would mind, but everything he’s ordering sounds good and when the fuck did he even have time to look at the menu?), following the movement of his lips and the charming smile curled up at the corner of them, he thinks, _Maybe_.

Maybe he could fall in love, this time.

*

At the end of it all, it goes… Well. Smoothly isn’t a word Levi would use to describe it, but it’s close to that. Either way, he’s thankful when they’re climbing out of the cab at the end of the night and he knows his apartment isn’t far off.

“That was nice,” Eren hums into the warm evening air. Too warm. Sticky and humid and awful, and Levi is regretting the dress shirt he’s wearing. He longs for the four walls of his home and the frigid temperature registered on the thermostat.

“It wasn’t horrible,” Levi agrees, and Eren laughs, leaning into his side as they walk through the lobby doors. Even that much is a relief to the heavy air outside.

“Not horrible enough that we might do it again sometime?” Eren asks. He doesn’t sound hopeful in the way Levi might have expected—just curious. Levi thinks of Eren holding his hand over the table almost the entire night, and the smudge of eel sauce at the corner of his mouth, and his insistence at feeding Levi a piece of his own sushi to the point of ridiculousness. He smiles.

“Maybe.” After all, he wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t horrible.

As they enter the blissfully empty elevator, Eren blocks him from pressing the button for the fourth floor.

“You picked me up,” Eren explains, not meeting his eye. “Let me walk you to your door.”

Levi rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, but doesn’t fight it. It’s the least he could do after how he started their evening off, after all.

“Before,” Eren starts from nowhere, keeping his eyes trained on the elevator doors. “You said I was your first boyfriend, does that mean…” Eren glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he plays with his fingers, and his ears are red, like he’s _embarrassed_ , and Levi quirks an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ve never…?” Eren makes a weird gesture with his hands, and Levi’s eyes widen.

Turns out Levi isn’t the only one who has a hard time with words.

(And that Eren isn’t the only one good at filling in the blanks).

“No,” Levi responds, also staring straight ahead at the elevator doors. “I’m not a virgin.” Not that Levi’s few sexual escapades are anything that warrant discussion, but. Well. He’s _not_.

“Oh.” Eren nods. “I—same.”

The elevator suddenly feels too small.

“But I’ve been tested since my last— _time_ , I guess, and I’m… I’m good.”

Levi looks at Eren, face thoroughly confused.

“Good for you?” Levi furrows his eyebrows. “You want a fucking gold star for using condoms or something?”

Eren starts laughing. _No_ , he starts _giggling_ , and by the time the doors open on the seventh door, he’s having trouble breathing from how hard he’s laughing.

“Let’s never do that again,” Levi tells him as he leads a _still laughing_ Eren off the elevator. “Also, it negates you walking me to my door when you can’t even move by yourself,” Levi grumbles, already digging for his keys, and Eren is muttering apologies through the last few remaining hiccups of laughter. Levi finds it hard to actually be mad at him, when he sounds like that.

“I just…” Eren starts as they come to a stop, and then Levi finds himself looking into Eren’s eyes rather than trying to unlock his front door, two large, warm palms covering his cheeks. Eren let’s out one last breathy laugh before kissing him, and they stumble into Levi’s door like a couple of fucking teenagers.

“That didn’t feel like a goodnight kiss,” Levi mumbles against his mouth, and Eren smiles against his lips.

“I was hoping it didn’t have to be,” he murmurs, eyes closed as he presses his forehead to Levi’s. “I was hoping…” his fingers move nervously against Levi’s earlobes. “I was hoping that, maybe, I could stay the night.”

Levi says nothing. Not for lack of trying, just that all of his words seem to stick in his throat, crammed together so that when he opens his mouth, there’s only silence. Instead, he unlocks his door and let’s Eren inside. He figures, this time, actions speak much louder than any words could.

*

The living room is all the long shadows and bleached light of dawn when Levi wanders into the living room, body heavy with exhaustion but knowing full well he won’t be getting anymore sleep. His limbs are so loose he feels like he can’t control them, and when he nearly walks into the couch, he catches himself on the back of it to steady himself.

It’s cold, but then again, he’s only half-dressed, not having bothered trying to find a shirt in the dark. He eyes the blanket strewn over the back of the couch, the same one he’s laid over Eren countless of times since they’ve met, but his eyes quickly skip over it and to the piano.

Playing it hadn’t been his intention. He’d been headed to the kitchen to drink tea and wait for Eren to wake up, but now he’s sitting down at the bench as if he’s being called to. It’s probably not a good idea to play at this hour, especially with the lengths he went to removing himself from his bed without waking Eren up. It’s a miracle he’d managed to find his pajama bottoms quietly and in the dark, really.

He presses one key, and then another, and closes his eyes. Now that he’s started playing, he’s finding it a little difficult to stop.

It’s [an older song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9r9O0vW-mM) that comes to his fingers, and he breathes with the notes as he plays them. Levi plays softer than the song normally requires, conscious of the hour at the back of his mind, and finds the melody feels fitting to call the sun to rise.

Or, if nothing else, to convey the mass of thoughts and feelings that have kept him from finding sleep.

Not that it was the only thing. Levi’s not exactly familiar with sharing a space as small as his bed with another person, and Eren is in no means small. He sprawls, and he’s too warm, and he tosses more than Levi figures is probably normal (not that he has anyone to compare Eren to, really). He cuddles, too—had wrapped around Levi and held him close, peppering lazy kisses on Levi’s bare neck and shoulders, hands twisting and roaming until they found places to call home.

And he _drooled_. Not on Levi, thank god, but he’d seen the wet mark on his pillow case and had kept his sigh as quiet as possible.

It had been different. Strange, and slightly uncomfortable, and Levi doesn’t sleep unclothed because it’s unsanitary, but he’d stripped down to his boxers because Eren is so _warm_. But… Levi can’t help but think about Eren’s face. About looking at it in the dark, between the glimpses of sleep he’d managed to get, and thinks it’s something he could grow accustomed to. The way Eren had touched him, and murmured words and hid laughs into his skin, and drawn shivers and gasps out of Levi with his fingertips…

Levi thinks he could get very, very used to it.

“Talk about a wake-up call.”

Eren is leaning at the entrance of the living room, dressed in the pajama pants Levi had forced him to wear, hair sticking up in all its bedhead glory. Levi looks at him and stops playing.

“Sorry,” Levi mumbles into silence. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” Eren says around a yawn, and the way he walks over is languid. “Couldn’t sleep?” Eren asks, rubbing at his eyes, and Levi nods slightly.

“Not used to sleeping with a furnace,” Levi responds, still keeping his voice down even though he’s cut the morning stillness with his piano already. Eren laughs, quiet and in the back of his throat, before he drapes himself over Levi’s back. He folds his arms in a loose hold, elbows resting on Levi’s shoulders.

“‘m sorry,” Eren murmurs, rubbing his nose against the shell of Levi’s ear.

“Don’t be.” Levi turns his head, aching for some sort of touch that Eren isn’t already giving him, and their lips meet in a half kiss. Levi can smell mint on Eren’s breath, and smiles a little bit, at the idea of a very sleepy Eren brushing his teeth before wandering out here.

“Can you play like this?” Eren whispers, eyes closed, and Levi nods. “Keep playing.” He tips his head against Levi’s and sighs. “It was pretty.”

So Levi plays. He doesn’t tell Eren who the composer is, because he’s made a big enough deal over it without meaning to that Eren will no doubt read too far into it. Not that it wouldn’t be uncalled for. There’s a reason this song is the one bleeding out of his fingertips on this particular morning.

Maybe it hadn’t been discomfort that had kept him from sleeping, but _this_. Levi is not so good with words, but he’s always been able to pour everything—his heart, his soul, his emotions—into his playing. Maybe that’s all he needed to do, to calm his mind, to find sleep.

His breathing falling in time with Eren’s, with Eren’s skin keeping him warm, it’s easy to believe.

The music wells and falls, like waves racing to the shoreline, and as it draws to a close, it comes slowly. Falling from Levi’s fingertips like raindrops before pausing and starting again. He can feel Eren shudder against him, and then Eren’s face is pressed to his neck like he’s hiding in the skin there, and they’re both still as the music fades into the morning.

Levi stares at his hands for a moments, wondering what he just said and what Eren just heard, when Eren breathes harshly against his neck, almost like…

Like he’s crying.

“Eren?” Levi asks, reaching up to touch his arm, voiced tilted in concern. Eren’s gotten a little teary before, but Levi hadn’t been trying to make him emotional, not that he’d been trying in the past—then again, Levi had been a little emotional while playing just now, but they hadn’t been sad emotions. Not in the slightest. He’d—

“I’m sorry,” Eren rasps out, and Levi holds onto his arm, not sure what else to do, and he can feel the tears now, falling onto his neck and running down his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it wasn’t—” Eren cuts off, shaking his head, and then presses further against Levi, holds him closer, like he’s afraid Levi is going to disappear. It’s a little frightening, if Levi’s being honest with himself.

“Eren?” Levi tries again, not sure what else to say. _What’s wrong? Are you okay? Tell me what you need_. It’s what he’s really saying, and all he can hope is that Eren hears that.

For a second, everything is still, and then Eren’s answer is too loud and too harsh, like the sound of shattering glass in a museum.

“What?” Levi asks, the word feeling empty, and his grip on Eren’s arm tightens.

“I’m moving to California.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm sorry? D; JUST TRUST ME, OKAY.  
> [read, reblog, & like on tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/130597741720/dolce)


End file.
